THE APOLLO NATIONAL PARK
Earth-laden oceans
burn his eyes blue
as an employee blinks
to regain his place
before the customers-in-waiting
who file like bugs
into body-crevice security.
A glass case encompasses
Armstrong’s first footprint, serenity
captured after craftsmen slaved over
construction of an atmosphere
designed to preserve lava root trees
within an encasement
patrons paid to relish in alien air.
He braces behind the register
to receive a California clan
arriving on the heels
of Gen X newlyweds.
They’ve all come smacking
their lips under the sun’s inquisition
when he takes his afternoon break
by gulping down moon water
and paying two Franklins
for a One Small Step sweatshirt
imported in from some sweatshop galaxy.
At dusk, peer through that stab wound
in the sky where a man clocks out
into a valley’s citizen barrage
down Lunar City Boulevard.
Art: Nancy Shuler
In the artist’s words: